


Secrets and Lies (Day 11)

by chasingriver



Series: 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge - Mycroft/Sherlock [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bribery, Family Secrets, M/M, Secrets, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly begins to wonder exactly what she's been 'covering up' for Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets and Lies (Day 11)

**Author's Note:**

> This is Day 11 of 'ChasingRiver's 30 Day OTP Porn Challenge': " **Explaining their relationship to a disapproving third party** "
> 
>  **Warnings** : sibling incest (implied)

Sherlock breezed into the morgue with an air of transparent cheeriness. He always did when he wanted something.

"Molly…"

He dragged her name out far too long; almost a question, but not quite.

"Hello, Sherlock."

"Is there any chance I could be 'working' here with you tonight? Say, from seven until midnight? Something vital. Preferably something that would decompose if I didn't get to it this evening?"

She sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled this. She didn't know who the lucky person was, but it wasn't _her_ , and he clearly didn't want John knowing about them.

"I find myself with two tickets to the symphony, if you'd like to go."

The bribes had increased, then. Last time it was a coffee, which, she noted with irritation, he'd reneged on. _Two tickets. And who the hell am I going to take to the symphony? Utterly clueless and unintentionally insulting. That's Sherlock. Well, two can play at this game._

"Oh, that'd be fantastic Sherlock, thank you! When is it? I'd love to go with you; you have such an appreciation for music, and I don't get out much."

Panic flitted across his perfect, unobtainable features.

_Hah._

"I, um, well… I'd meant…"

She wasn't a malicious person, but she did enjoy this, in a way - watching him struggle like a fish on a line.

"I, er, I have another engagement that evening. I thought you might be interested in taking someone else."

"Oh, thanks Sherlock, but I'm honestly not sure who I'd take. You should give them to someone who can use both of them," she smiled, innocently. _Time to reel him in._ She at least wanted to make him work for this. _It's not right, for him to keep taking advantage and expect me to worship him and go along with it._ "Did I tell you? John phoned the other night, looking for you. He said he couldn't reach you on your mobile. I told him you'd gone to the loo. You really should give me more to work with, you know."

This time, the panic did more than flit. It positively settled.

"Ah," Sherlock replied, biting his lower lip.

"Ah," he repeated, and she watched with a benign look, trying not to smile.

"Well, perhaps I could move a few things around; I might be able to go to the symphony after all." His smile was a little pained.

"Really? Oh, I'd love that, Sherlock, thank you!" _Best bribe ever._ She harboured no illusions - it _was_ a bribe, not a date - but the victory was almost as sweet. "I know I have some decomposing tissue samples around here somewhere," she added with a coy smile.

* * *

_Molly blackmailed me into a date. -SH_

Mycroft huffed his amusement as he glanced at the text.

_You're bribing her to cover for you. I don't see as there's much difference. -MH_

He could almost see Sherlock fuming as he read the text.

Mycroft had expected this for a while. Sherlock had always underestimated Molly; he assumed that her infatuation with him would translate to endless, unquestioning loyalty. Mycroft had warned him against it, but his brother had always waved the threat away.

_And where, may I ask, shall this date take place? -MH_

_I have to take her to the symphony. -SH_

_Well, it could be worse. I suggest you make the best of it if you want her continued support. -MH_

The lack of reply testified to Sherlock's irritation. Sherlock's emotional transparency called for more drastic measures. _Ms Hooper is a force to be reckoned with, and at least one of us should respect that_ , he thought.

* * *

Molly gripped the cardboard cup of tea, trying to warm up her fingers. It was always so cold in the morgue, and this autopsy was particularly mundane. She leaned against the counter for a quick break.

Not for the first time, she wondered what was going on with Sherlock. Her curiosity gnawed at her. _Surely I can figure it out._

_What do I know to be true?_

_Sherlock doesn't want John to find out what he's doing. So… drugs or dating._

She suspected drugs would take more of a toll on his appearance, and he never appeared to be high.

 _Dating, then._ She gave a quick huff. _Whoever it is must be resilient as hell._

 _But why would John care? Jealousy is unlikely; he dates women._ John seemed to have no interest in Sherlock beyond their relationship as flatmates and as a provider of constant adrenaline.

 _There must be another reason Sherlock doesn't want John to know. Oh… Sherlock doesn't get out much: John must know the person in question._ She pursed her lips in a smirk. _They must work_ here.

She took another sip of her tea. _Well, that narrows it down a bit._

 _Donovan?_ They certainly both make a show of detesting each other. _An over-compensation to hide their relationship?_ Sherlock didn't seem like the type to ham it up _that_ much, and Sally seemed genuinely disgusted by his presence. No, that wasn't likely.

 _What about that Irene woman who disappeared without a trace?_ She supposed it was possible, but that had come off more like a professional rivalry than a romance, and John had said something about a witness protection program. No one had seen or heard from her in months.

In general, Sherlock didn't seem very interested in women at all, now that she thought about it. He barely registered her physical appearance, or those of John's dates. But he'd taken in Jim's appearance (and made the seemingly correct deduction that he was gay), in a matter of seconds. _No, it makes more sense_ , she mused. _I don't know any straight man who'd wear that purple shirt - at least not three sizes too small._

 _What about Dimmock then?_ she thought. _No, I'm pretty sure he's straight. But even if he isn't, he'd never be able to tolerate Sherlock._ He was certainly far more appreciative when she wore lipstick, and he'd gone out of his way to chat with her on a couple of occasions. She secretly hoped there might be _something_ there.

_Lestrade?_

_That's doubtful; Sherlock singlehandedly instigated his divorce._ He could give as good as he got, but it seemed unlikely that he'd want to take anything from Sherlock.

She took another drink.

_Anderson?_

She doubled over, laughing so hard that she sent a fine spray of tea all over the open chest of the unfortunate corpse.

 _No. Definitely not Anderson. In no world could that_ ever _be possible._

She sighed at her lack of professionalism, glad that the evidence had already been procured, and picked up a sponge to dab the tea from the bluish skin of the corpse. _Not that Mr Open Chest cares either way, I'm sure; it might have warmed him up a bit._

She expected Sherlock to want somebody that was more… _his intellectual equal?_

There weren't many people like that around here, as Sherlock reminded them all on an almost daily basis.

 _Jim?_ She winced at the idea; Jim was not a pleasant memory at the best of times. _He may be intelligent but he's also a psychotic killer, as well as a cruel bastard. Worst boyfriend ever._ She felt lucky to have gotten out of that relationship with her life _._ Even Sherlock, sociopath or not, seemed unlikely to date a vicious murderer.

With the viciousness and determination only someone with a bone saw could wield, she set about dismantling Mr Open Chest's ribcage.

The evening passed uneventfully, and she didn't have to use her prefabricated excuses on John. She felt a little guilty about lying to him, but her jealousy smoothed it over without too much effort. It wasn't fair; he got to _live_ with Sherlock. Even if they _weren't_ anything more than flatmates, she could only imagine what it would be like to live around Sherlock's constant glow of energy. The more logical side of her brain informed her that it would be exactly like living with a five year old narcissist, but she still couldn't bring herself to end her arrangement with Sherlock. _I'll take the attention any way I can get it, thank you very much._ A quieter, more self-loathing part of her, thought, _I don't care what it says about me._

* * *

Sherlock's phone buzzed with a text.

_I've purchased some new lab equipment for Ms Hooper; I suggest you play along if she brings it up. You might suggest your preference for working in the morgue; the lab does get so busy. -MH_

_What do you mean, 'play along'? What sort of equipment? -SH_

_A scanning electron microscope. It should arrive later today. -MH_

_What? I can't afford one of those! She'll know I didn't buy it. -SH_

_That's what I'm hoping. Stop by my office. We need to talk. -MH_

Sherlock barged into Mycroft's office in a full-on strop.

"Are you _trying_ to get us discovered, Mycroft? The symphony tickets were a little transparent, I'll admit, but a _scanning electron microscope?_ That's a new definition of 'obvious bribe' if I've ever heard one."

"It's not for her, remember? It's for you. Which at least puts it within the bounds of legality, especially since it came out of my private funds."

"That's not the point," Sherlock fumed, as he paced the room like caged animal. "She's going to start asking questions. Trying to figure out where I go. Nnghhh." This last sound of frustration was accompanied with open clenched palms, grasping at the air as if he could throttle the life out of it.

Mycroft sat at his desk, unruffled. When Sherlock started to calm down, he spoke. "Are you quite finished?"

Sherlock glared at him.

"Has it not occurred to you that Ms Hooper is probably _already_ asking questions? Your occasional 'favour' has turned into outright bribery, and bribery on a regular basis, at that. Did you honestly think she wouldn't wonder what you're hiding?"

"So why did you send the microscope?"

"I wanted an excuse to introduce myself. She seems like a rather exceptional young woman. Ms Hooper still tolerates your presence - even appears to enjoy it - despite your abhorrent behaviour towards her at that Christmas party."

Sherlock looked up in surprise.

"Yes, I heard about that. It was difficult _not_ to, believe me," Mycroft muttered. "She lies for you, without question. Why, I wonder? It seems that she's beyond her unrequited infatuation; if my sources are correct, she's hoping for a date with Detective Inspector Dimmock."

Sherlock scowled.

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Sherlock. You're not even interested in her."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Clearly, she's willing to assist with your deception, apparently out of some sense of loyalty, or possibly just for your continued attention. But those things can only be pushed so far without questions being raised. If she starts raising those questions with the wrong people, your life is going to become a lot more complicated."

"And what exactly do you hope to accomplish with this introduction? 'Hello, I'm Sherlock's brother. We're sleeping together and I want to pay you off so you don't tell anyone?'," he mimicked.

"Well, you got it half right."

"What?" Sherlock practically exploded, arms gesticulating wildly. "Are you absolutely insane?" he demanded. "You're actually suggesting we _tell her?_ "

"Sit down and listen to what I'm saying, Sherlock."

Sherlock stormed over to the window, yanked the curtains back with so much force they were almost ripped from their rails, and fumed.

Mycroft sighed. This was going about as well as he'd expected, really.

* * *

That afternoon, as Molly restocked the lab supplies, two delivery men showed up with a massive crate on a pallet truck.

"You need to sign for this. Where do you want it set up?"

"What is it? I didn't order anything."

"Um," the man ran his eyes down the printed sheet on the clipboard. "Says here: scanning electron microscope. This is the morgue right?" He glanced over at the body on the table and laughed. "I hope it's the morgue."

This made no sense; she'd always had to go upstairs and use the one in the labs. Not that it wouldn't be lovely to have one down here, but how had they worked this out on the budget? They'd just sacked someone last week.

She frowned as she looked around the room and wondered where she could put it. She had no intention of looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth; she'd find out who'd sent it later. "Let's put it over there," she said, hastily signing the clipboard. She wondered how long it would be before they came to take it back; somebody must have made a huge mistake.

She wandered upstairs with two cups of coffee the next morning. It was always nice to have an excuse to visit Greg, and perhaps he'd know something about it.

"Morning Greg. Brought you some coffee."

"Oo, ta. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing really. Just thought I'd leave the basement for a bit and interact with the rest of the world."

Greg flashed her a charming grin. His mood was so much better when Sherlock wasn't around; he really didn't seem like a probable candidate for Sherlock's mystery lover, unless he really enjoyed misery.

"Anything new and exciting going on in the morgue? Well, new. Hopefully nothing too exciting."

"Well, it's funny you should mention that, actually," she replied. "Have there been any changes to the budget that I didn't hear about?"

Greg wrinkled his nose in confusion. "Nothing good, why?"

"Well," she started, and suddenly wasn't sure if she should mention it. "Don't worry, it's nothing."

"Aw, come on, what is it?" he teased. "Out with it."

"Well, I had some new equipment show up yesterday. Something I needed, but I never would have ordered it. They wouldn't have approved something like that."

"Huh," Greg agreed. "That is odd. I didn't hear anything about it up here; it's all we can do to get new pencils."

That's exactly what she'd been afraid of.

Back downstairs, she stared at the huge machine, sitting in the corner. She should really set it up, but its mysterious origin scratched at the back of her mind.

_This is a lot bigger than symphony tickets._

Sherlock didn't have access to this sort of funding… but there _was_ his brother, always showing up in chauffeured limousines. Perhaps _he_ did. She phoned Greg.

"Hi Molly, what's up?"

"Sherlock's brother…" she questioned.

"Yeah, Mycroft. What about him?"

"What does he do?"

"Not sure, really. Something for the government, I think; it seems very hush-hush. He comes around here talking to Sherlock every now and then, but I've only met him a few times. Why?"

"I'm still trying to figure out who paid for this thing."

"Why on earth would Sherlock's brother buy you a microscope?"

"Yeah, you're right; it makes no sense. I'm sure it's some sort of clerical error. Thanks."

"Um, okay. Bye." Greg replied, sounding confused.

She started unpacking the machine from its pallet.

 _Perhaps he got it for Sherlock,_ she thought. _He's always whinging about having to share the one in the lab. No one else spends any time down here._

She sent Sherlock a text.

_Do you know anything about this scanning electron microscope? -Molly_

_Ah yes, I meant to mention that to you. My brother procured it for me. Did it get there in one piece? -SH_

It was as if the rules didn't even apply to them. Apparently, the higher you were in the government, the less they scrutinised your expenditures.

_Yes. I should have it set up by this afternoon. -Molly_

_Great. Are you doing anything for lunch? Mycroft would like to meet you, and he's buying. -SH_

She dropped the phone onto the table as if she'd been burned.

Mycroft had kidnapped John; she'd heard about it. True, he'd been returned unharmed, but between that and the microscope, the last thing she wanted to do was get in a car with him, even if Sherlock was there.

The phone vibrated noisily against the cold steel as another text lit up the screen.

_Molly? -SH_

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

_I already have lunch plans. -Molly_

Technically, it was true. They involved her and a sandwich, here in the morgue.

_Alright, I'll be by later then. -SH_

* * *

"Your reputation precedes you, Mycroft; she never has lunch plans. I find it much more likely that she refuses to get in a car with you."

"As I said before, she's a very smart woman. I'd never harm her, of course, but she has a keen sense of self-preservation. I like that."

"Then I trust you'll be visiting the morgue this afternoon for our little chat?"

"Indeed."

"Very well. See you then." Sherlock got up and left the office, all traces of his previous strop gone.

Mycroft sat back in his chair and sighed; overall, it had gone much better than he'd expected. He hadn't come to the decision lightly, of course; it wasn't information one generally wanted exposed. He'd considered going directly to John with it, but Sherlock had already bribed Molly one too many times for that - she was already curious. With her on board, the need to inform John could wait. Besides, John would likely be horrified; Molly's willingness to be bribed spoke of a more flexible moral code. Especially where Sherlock was concerned.

* * *

Sherlock arrived just after lunchtime; he didn't want to embarrass Molly regarding her 'lunch plans'. He considered being polite and friendly, but thought better of it; he didn't want to seem too out of character.

"So, um, your brother was able to get this for you? It's very nice."

"It's a personal expense, not a government one," he reassured her.

"Oh. I didn't know you were so…" she trailed off.

"Rich? I'm not; he is. Eldest son and all that."

"Oh," she replied, looking vaguely sheepish. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

He stopped fiddling with the images on the monitors long enough to turn around and talk to her. "It's fine, really," he said, smiling and trying to sound like he was genuinely interested in the conversation. He wasn't sure why people bothered - conversations were hard work. Mycroft had warned him not to ruin things before he arrived, and he didn't want to insult her - inadvertently or otherwise.

"So," he started awkwardly, "any interesting new body parts? The finger decomposition test I'm running at home is going along nicely, although John has banned me from all but the bottom drawer of the fridge.

She grinned and replied, "You need a second fridge."

"Mm, indeed. Mycroft is going to stop by this afternoon. Is that alright?"

She shifted nervously and frowned. "Um, yes. I suppose so. I'm not sure why he wants to meet me, though. Frankly, from everything I've heard, he seems a little, um…"

"What?" Sherlock pressed, curious to hear her description.

"…terrifying."

Sherlock's face lit up and he laughed. "Yes, well…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He has an image to maintain. Professionally. Don't worry," he added, conspiratorially, "I won't let him hurt you."

She looked a little insulted, and Sherlock wondered if he'd overstepped some sort of social boundary again. He quickly tried to smooth things over. "Really, he's fine. And I'm sure you can, um, take care of yourself."

When her face relaxed, he did as well, fairly sure that his ham-fisted almost-apology had worked. His phone buzzed.

_I'm upstairs. I know precisely where the morgue is, but she might not be comfortable knowing that. Perhaps you'd care to meet me up here? -MH_

"Ah, Mycroft's here. I'll just go and get him. Back in a few."

"Sherlock?" she called out, as he was leaving.

He turned around. "Mm?"

"Why _is_ he here?"

He'd expected this and had even asked Mycroft how he should respond. 'Tell her,' he'd said. 'Let her think about it.'

"There's a personal matter we'd like to discuss with you," he replied. Then he smiled and breezed out of the room.

* * *

_Personal matter?_

_What the hell?_

Perhaps it was drugs, after all. Perhaps Mycroft was covering for Sherlock too, and they needed her cooperation.

But it didn't _feel_ like drugs.

Perhaps it was something to do with Jim; maybe Mycroft needed more information about him in order to track him down. It certainly didn't seem like _she'd_ be of much use though.

_And Sherlock had said 'we'._

Was Mycroft involved in covering up Sherlock's secret relationship as well? At this point, it seemed like it had to be a relationship. Nothing else made sense, unless he'd been taken on by MI5 or something.

She shook her head and started fiddling nervously with stacks of agar plates. She had absolutely no idea what to make of it.

* * *

"Do you think she suspects anything?" Mycroft asked as they strode down the hallway.

"No, I don't think she has a clue."

"Well, this should be interesting them," he replied with a tight grin as he pushed open the door to the morgue.

"Ms Hooper," he said cheerfully, extending his hand in greeting, "it's lovely to meet you at last."

Molly looked nervous, but returned the handshake firmly and smiled.

Mycroft glanced around and took in the seating possibilities - mostly a few high lab stools and a couple of fibreglass desk chairs. _I really should see about improving that._ "Is there somewhere we could sit down, perhaps?"

"Um…" she replied, hurrying around to corral the few low chairs into one area.

Sherlock hopped gracefully onto one of the counter-tops and sat there with his palms braced against the edge. "I'm fine here," he said.

Molly pushed two of the other chairs over and muttered apologetically, "Sorry we don't have anything better."

Mycroft smiled and hoped it didn't look threatening. Most of the time, he wanted his smiles to come off as threatening, and it had developed into a nasty little habit. "It's fine, I assure you." He smoothed his suit coat beneath him as he sat.

"So, Ms Hooper…"

"Molly." She'd plopped into the other chair and unconsciously fiddled with the lapel of her lab coat.

"Molly. We have a rather delicate matter to discuss with you. Sherlock has informed me that he's taken you into his confidence regarding his absences from his flat. Clearly, asking you to participate in this is a little unfair, especially since you don't know the circumstances surrounding the situation."

"Do I want to know?" she asked, almost joking, but not quite.

Mycroft looked thoughtful. "That's a fine question," he replied. " _Do_ you want to know?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, soberly. "I don't like to lie without a very good reason." She looked meaningfully at Sherlock. "No matter who it's for."

"Very well," he replied, and folded his hands in his lap. "I'm sure by now you've suspected that Sherlock is involved in a romantic relationship."

She nodded.

"The details regarding the relationship, should they come to light, could be damaging for all parties involved."

Molly blushed. "Oh," she said, surprised. "Is it… a dominatrix, or er, a domin…" She struggled for a male version of the word.

"No, no," Mycroft cut her off, "it's nothing like that." _It's not as if Sherlock_ pays _me for the privilege of kneeling at my feet._ He had to suppress a smile at the image. He nodded slightly at Sherlock, indicating he should deliver the next part of their little speech.

"Molly," Sherlock started, "I want you to know that your attentions, while very flattering, are not exactly my… thing. I'm gay."

"I rather gathered that," she replied, bluntly.

"I'm sorry to have been so rude about it in the past. I should have simply said something."

Mycroft nodded. _Good. Sherlock had even managed the apology without coming off like an arse._

"So… that's all? You don't want John to know you're in a gay relationship?" she said with a perplexed expression. "I mean, I know he's straight, but it doesn't seem like he'd particularly mind."

"Ah. You see, that's not exactly _all_ there is to it," Sherlock continued.

He paused and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"You see, I'm in a relationship with Mycroft."

The silence was positively deafening.

Her mouth fell open, just a little, as she shifted her gaze between them. Then she pursed her lips and squinted, deep in thought.

Seventeen seconds later, she spoke, but they weren't the words Mycroft expected to hear.

"This isn't some sort of elaborate joke at my expense, is it?"

Mycroft sat back in surprise. _Good Lord, if she thinks Sherlock would do that, I'm amazed she even speaks to him._ "It most assuredly is not," he replied.

Sherlock sat stock-still on the counter and kept blessedly quiet.

Until he didn't.

"The taboo concerning incest is mainly due to issues of consent and the propagation of genetic abnormalities, neither of which…" Sherlock started.

 _Oh dear Lord._ "Sherlock, please!" Mycroft cut in.

Molly sucked her lips between her teeth and squinted as she continued to shift her gaze between them.

Eventually, she spoke again. "I can see why you don't want this getting out."

Mycroft looked at her expression to determine whether her statement was a threat, or merely a statement of fact. It appeared to be the latter. He gave her a faint smile. "Indeed."

"Not that this is really my business," she continued, "but how long has this been going on? I mean," she stammered, "was he…?" Molly looked over at Sherlock.

"It's been going on since I was in my mid-twenties," Sherlock reassured her. "I was fully consenting in the arrangement. In fact, I instigated it."

She laughed a little. "That doesn't really surprise me; you've always been pushy. I can see why you've been hiding this from John, though. It would be more than a little awkward, I'm sure."

"Not to mention the fact that it's illegal," Mycroft added.

She turned to him, shocked. "Really? Even if it's between consenting adults?"

"Yes. The English legal system is surprisingly archaic when it comes to matters concerning sex."

"Oh… oh," she sighed. "That's awful. I'm so sorry."

Mycroft gave a slight shrug. "You get used to the secrecy; we've been together for about ten years now. Dr Watson's involvement has made things a lot more complicated for both of us, of course."

"Gosh, yes. I can see why." She looked at both of them again. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this, but it really doesn't bother me, either. I completely understand why you need to keep it a secret, and I'll do whatever I can to help." The words tumbled out in a rush.

"So you're honestly not disturbed by this, Molly?" Sherlock enquired, genuinely surprised.

"Well, no. It's not very conventional, but then, neither are you."

Mycroft chuckled.

She looked at them again, almost as if she was sizing them up. "I have one request though. Not blackmail, mind you, just a request." Then she looked away and blushed fiercely.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows, questioningly. "Yes?"

"I'd like to watch."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued in the next installment: **Day 30 (voyeurism)**


End file.
